


Shooters and Cissies

by briwd



Category: Chicago Fire, NCIS
Genre: Case Fic, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-01
Updated: 2015-01-05
Packaged: 2018-03-04 16:47:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 13,649
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3074630
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/briwd/pseuds/briwd
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A casefile written for SeSa 2014 at NFA. An AU and crossover with the Willa Catherverse at Alternate History. When two Naval petty officers and a Marine are brutally killed, the NCIS team's investigation leads to the involvement of the most brutal regime on the continent. This familiar, yet different NCIS includes Leslie Shay from Chicago Fire and a very different Ellie Bishop. You'll see cameos by characters from numerous TV shows, as well as a special appearance from a much loved former NCIS character.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Shooters and Cissies**

**PROLOGUE**

**Owings Mills, Maryland**

**Industrial Republic of North America**

**December 21**

**IRNA Navy Petty Officer Stephen de la Cruz (Hispanic/Caucasian Industrial)**

**IRNA Navy Petty Officer Kaitlin McGuiness (Caucasian Industrial)**

**IRNA Marine Corps Gunnery Sergeant Sam Woods (African Industrial)**

 

The three Maryland natives were inseparable their entire lives, growing up in the same suburban D.C. neighborhood, through grade, middle and high school. Even after they went their separate ways into their country's armed forces, they kept in touch through the UniNet.

 

Their grandfathers served the old United States of America, their fathers in the navy of its spiritual successor.

 

Against the odds, all three had gotten leave for the holidays, and after a joyous family reunion at Baltimore International, the three decided to spend an evening together doing one of their favorite activities:

 

Target practice.

 

"I don't remember this place," McGuiness said, as de la Cruz pulled his Expedition into a semi-out-of-the-way industrial park.

 

"Blame Sam," de la Cruz replied, putting the vehicle into park.

 

"Found it on the Shooters app," said Woods, holding up his MacPhone, which had the app on full screen. The app showed the address to Mark's Shooting Range, promising a 'full shooting experience, indoors, unaffected by weather'.

 

"I thought Roger Holston was still open?" McGuiness asked. "How many times did we go there...Stevie. Remember when I nearly shot you in the ass?"

 

"You weren't supposed to shoot at me while I was in the field, Katie," he said, as the three stepped out of the vehicle. "And you missed."

 

"Did I?" she teased, then rubbed her arms. "Good thing this place is indoors...it's freezing out here."

 

"We did 15 above before, Katie," de la Cruz said. "Sam did it in upstate New York."

 

"No comment," said Woods. Even among friends, he didn't like talking Marine Corps missions even if he did spill a few more details than he should have to Katie and Steve.

 

"You sure about this place?" McGuiness asked, as de la Cruz walked up to the counter. The burly man looked at the 40% off coupon on the app - scanning the code on the MacPhone - and after Jones paid the $60 discount, told them they had the run of the place until closing.

 

"Sweet," McGuiness said.

 

"Sam, you wanna place a bet? Katie only makes 90 percent," de la Cruz said.

 

"Please. You're talking to a trained sniper," she dismissed. "100 percent all the way."

 

"Then, Miss Kaitlin, do you want to bet you'll make 100 percent?" de la Cruz said.

 

"Wanna double it?" McGuiness replied. "Sam? Want to get in on this?"

 

"Yeah, Gunny. Get in on this. And make sure you side with me. Won't lose your money."

 

"Pleeeaaassseee. I'm already spending the money I'm gonna make off this, sailor."

 

"I'm staying out of your pissing match," Jones said. "Too busy working on my own perfect score...I ain't in the Marine Corps just to look good."

 

"Then how about another bet: highest score buys drinks. O'Halloran's."

 

"Deal."

 

Three hours later, closing time came, and all three were raving about the range.

 

"This place really is as good as advertised," Jones said to the burly guy at the counter, as he and his friends prepared to leave.

 

"That so?" the man replied.

 

"25 users, four to five stars each. They weren't kidding!" Jones said. "Five stars from us, too. Pass that along to your boss."

 

"Have a good one," de la Cruz said, as the trio left.

 

"I"ll pass somethin' along all right...boy," the burly guy growled under his breath.

 

The trio saw an F-350 pickup that wasn't there before, two spots from their Expedition. They didn't see anyone else in the range.

 

A couple of men - wearing Dover Demons leather jackets - stepped out of the truck and headed for McGuiness, who was quickly trying to open the passenger door.

 

They grabbed both her arms.

 

"Where's the stash?" said the taller one, wearing a crimson cap with a stylized 'A'. And speaking with a decidedly Southern accent.

 

"Hey! Hands off the lady!" Jones said, flying from the driver's side to help his friend. He got shoved into the pavement for his trouble by the stockier fellow, wearing a red cap with a black G within a white oval.

 

"This don't concern ya, boy," said another guy, built like a linebacker, wearing an overcoat that said 'CRACKERS' across the front.

 

"I think it does," said de la Cruz, running across the front of the Expedition to McGuiness's aid, getting between her and the tall guy with the crimson cap. "We don't have any quarrel with you. And we don't have any 'stash'."

 

"Oh we have a, what was it Bubba, 'quarrel' with you Industrial sons of bitches," said the tall guy.

 

Jones got up, and stood next to McGuiness. He figured they were outnumbered, and that through she could fight, she was at a disadvantage one on one against any of these guys. "You shove me again, I'm gonna have a quarrel with you."

 

"I can oblige you, boy," said the guy in the 'CRACKERS' overcoat.

 

McGuiness made the connection. The overcoat, the caps, the accents.

 

_These were definitely Confederates. They may be Cissies looking for an easy kill._

 

She stepped past de la Cruz - to his and Sam's surprise - and struck a pose, just as her C.O. had taught her in case she found herself in this kind of situation.

 

"I got your stash, sweethearts," she said, sweetly. "Let the fellas go. I'll show ya where it is."

 

 _Oh God no,_ Jones thought. _This is NOT going down...it **ain't** going down._

 

"Kaitlin--" was all he got out before being hit by a baseball, which bounced off the side of Sam's head, upwards and into de la Cruz's hands. He looked at the baseball - SANCTIONED BY DIXIE LEAGUE BASEBALL, CLIFTON M. LANDIS III COMMISSIONER - and a chill went down his back.

 

"What do you want?" de la Cruz said. "What do you Confederates--"

 

He was hit in the back of the head with a Kentucky Slugger by the burly counter guy - who had snuck out of the establishment - and crumpled to the ground.

 

"Shut up, you dirty Mexican," burly guy spat, before belching.

 

McGuiness began to fear for her life, but she would stand her ground. She would not abandon her friends.

 

To her surprise, none of the four - nor the other two wearing C.S. Air Force leather bomber jackets who snuck out the passenger side - made a move on her.

 

"You can have my body," she said, defiantly, as she was told three brave Plainsian women had done to save their male loved ones during their country's war with the Confederates in the late '50s. "Do with me as you wish. Leave my friends alone. Spare their lives."

 

They didn't make a move. Just stood there and glared at her.

 

"Please," she pleaded, silently, then saw the burly guy brandish his baseball bat.

 

"You ain't worth it, you damn Yankee whore," she heard from her right.

 

Anyone else in the vicinity would have heard short bursts of gunfire, followed by the F-350 peeling out of the parking lot.

 

After the truck left, they would have seen the Expedition with its driver's door open, the shooting range's front door left wide open.

 

And three bodies laying in blood on the parking lot, next to the Expedition.

 

**\--NCIS—**

**Note: many thanks to Chipperback at alternatehistory.com for his graciously allowing me the run of his Willa Catherverse for this alt-NCIS story!**


	2. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ellie Bishop is in effect an original character. She does have a familiar namesake in the Great Plains, however...

**NCIS**

**CHAPTER ONE**

**Washington, D.C., IRNA**

**Navy Yard**

**NCIS Headquarters**

 

"I call him James Bond," said Senior Special Agent Tony DiNozzo, showing off a photo on his Uni Galaxy phone of a black German Shepherd puppy.

 

"He looks cute," said Special Agent Jimmy Palmer, DiNozzo's old friend and long-time 'Probie'.

 

"He looks like a Marine," said CyberCrimes Senior Agent Tim McGee. "If anything, I'd call him Jethro."

 

"You already have a Jethro, McGee; in fact, your Jethro had a son. Jethro II," Tony said. "And carrying on the family tradition well, from what I’m told, after his daddy went to the Great Kennel in the sky."

 

"Jethro II is doing just fine," McGee said. "This fella looks like his brother."

 

"Which James Bond were you thinking of, Tony?" Palmer said. "Sean Connery? Idris Elba?"

 

"And why?" McGee said.

 

"He sniffed out a rat in my apartment," Tony said. "Did himself - and me - proud, too...hey, Ellie. Take a look at James Bond."

 

The team's probationary agent - Eleanor 'Ellie' Bishop - sat at her desk, engrossed in an instant message conversation.

 

The athletic, raven-haired tomboyish Chicago native came to NCIS straight out of FLET-C in Dayton, Ohio, and Gibbs often rode her harder than he did any of his other female agents. A few weeks ago, they argued over that, and her low score - 56 - on her field test; they made up, and the old man finally seemed to be lightening up on her just a bit.

 

But not too much.

 

She had tried to prove her worth from day one, and today was no exception: she was talking with an intelligence operative from the Great Plains.

 

"Probie!" Tony yelled, as a paper wad hit her ponytail.

 

"Tony, I'm busy," said Ellie, tossing the paper wad back at DiNozzo, who held his hand up to block it and watched as it bounced harmlessly in front of his desk. “Doing real work.”

 

From day one, Ellie had showed Tony she could give as well as she could take in the banter department.

 

"I need your opinion, Agent Bishop," Tony said, walking to her desk. "James Bond."

 

She looked at the photo on his phone. "It's a dog."

 

Tony pouted. "No, Ellie. Not a dog. Not just any dog--"

 

"James Bond," McGee interjected.

 

"Sniffed out a rat at Tony's apartment," added Palmer.

 

"What kind of rat?" Ellie said. "Red Chinese? Soviet Russian? Confederate Cissie?"

 

"If only," McGee cracked, and Tony frowned at his remark.

 

"A rat. A literal rat," Tony said. "One down for the count, a dozen more to go."

 

"Two Navy officers and a Marine dead in a parking lot in Owings Mills," they all heard Gibbs say. Ellie still wondered how on earth the old man came around the corner from out of nowhere.

 

"You still standing - and sitting - there?" he barked.

 

"NO boss!" said Tony, Palmer and Ellie, as they grabbed their gear and headed towards the elevator.

 

**Owings Mills Industrial Park**

 

The team drove through the industrial park to the crime scene. The NCIS Medical Examiner's van, along with Owings Mills Police Department cruisers and park security, awaited them.

 

"Ducky got here early," said Palmer as he, Gibbs, Tony and Ellie stepped out of their van. "New assistant knows how to find a place."

 

"Some people take longer to find their destinations, don't they, Jimmy?" Tony joked.

 

"Hey! I learned my way around town," protested Palmer.

 

"2004: the Taft Parkway Incident. 2007: the Ziva Incident--"

 

"Once, Tony!"

 

"2008: the incident that ended all the incidents." Tony paused a few beats.

 

"Well???" Ellie said. "What was it? Tony?...Jimmy???"

 

"Driving school," Tony said. "Taught by Leroy Jethro Gibbs."

 

Gibbs hadn't said a word; he smiled. Palmer winced.

 

"Ooooooohh," Ellie said. "You gotta tell me that story." She looked at Gibbs, who looked at Palmer.

 

"How about you tell ME about that other Ellie you were messaging this morning?" Palmer said, quickly changing the subject.

 

"What other Ellie Bishop?" Tony said. "There's another Bishop?"

 

"That's what I hear," Gibbs said. "Right, Eleanor?"

 

"Is she a Cubs fan, North Side, Bowmanville born and bred, more comfortable changing a tire, running down a long fly ball in deep left-center or shooting pool with the fellas at the corner bar?" Tony said, as the trio approached the scene.

 

"No, she's from Oklahoma in the GPUR, born and raised on a farm, does know how to repair a tractor and doesn't like football," Ellie said. "And she's blonde and shorter than me."

 

"Blonde?" Tony said.

 

"And married," Ellie replied.

 

"Oh," Tony remarked.

 

"Why would she not like football?" Palmer said. "Everybody likes--oh boy."

 

DiNozzo and Bishop quickly joined Palmer next to the Expedition. They had seen similar sights countless times, but viewing the bullet-ridden bodies of de la Cruz, McGuiness and Jones lying in a pool of blood was no less disturbing.

 

Bishop had seen her share as a Chicago officer, and detective, before joining NCIS, Tony his share as a cop, detective and agent. Palmer - who began snapping photos - saw them only after joining NCIS right out of college. In the field, agents had to detach themselves from the deceased just to do their jobs; the longer you stayed on the job, the worse crimes you could, potentially, see, but the murder had to be investigated.

 

That didn't mean that agents became numb to death; each dealt with the subject in their own way without allowing their feelings to compromise their ability to investigate.

 

Sometimes, however, that detachment was overwhelmed by the brutality of the act.

 

"You okay?" DiNozzo asked Bishop, staring at the bodies, riddled with bullets.

 

"Yeah--yeah," she said in a half-whisper, holding her pad. She had taken an impromptu art class from a former agent, and her skills satisfied Gibbs enough that he assigned her the task of sketching crime scenes. "This is..."

 

"Never saw anything like it?" DiNozzo said. "I saw a guy, torn in half in Philly, dogs munching on him. Craziest thing, too. I kept thinking, this scene wasn't in any of the Bond films--"

 

"Wait--what?" Bishop tore herself away to face DiNozzo. "You're making a joke?"

 

"Not joking," Tony said, quietly, as he saw Gibbs talking with a security guard. "Focusing."

 

"I think I'm pretty focused on...on them."

 

"Believe it or not, I've seen worse," Tony said. "It's okay to be disturbed. It isn't okay to let this keep you from doing your job, from investigating this crime, from finding the dirtbag or dirtbags who did this to them. So focus on that."

 

Tony handed the probie a pen, and tapped on her sketch pad; she took the hint and began sketching the scene, while he looked over the bodies.

 

"Bullet holes, head to toe, shoulder to shoulder," Tony said. "Where's Ducky?"

 

"Right here, Anthony," Tony heard behind him, turning to see NCIS's venerable Chief Medical Examiner, bag in hand, leaning over McGuiness's body. Right behind him was a young, blond woman, leaning over de la Cruz's corpse.

 

"You must be the new girl," Tony said, making his way over to the new Medical Assistant.

 

"And you must be Agent DiNozzo," she replied. "I'd shake your hand but--"

 

"You're working," Tony replied, as she looked over de la Cruz's skull and neck. "Really working, too - looks like Duck's brought you up to speed already."

 

Shay smiled.

 

"You'd think right," she replied. "And before you ask. I'm batting for the other team."

 

"Excuse me?"

 

"I heard you were into the ladies," she continued. "Me too."

 

Before Tony could respond, Ducky voiced his opinion.

 

"Ms. Shay," he said, sternly. "You and Agent DiNozzo can compare notes at another time. Right now, our concern is our victims, who appear to have met their demise in a most brutal fashion."

 

"Sorry, Dr. Mallard," she said, looking over de la Cruz's torso. "I'm seeing a single GSW to the forehead, and multiple bullet wounds from the neck down to the crotch, and along the shoulders, then down both arms to the elbows."

 

Gibbs joined them. Tony took the cue to introduce the victims as the team leader leaned over each one.

 

This wasn't the first time he'd seen this method of death.

 

_Europe. Paris, Amsterdam, Sarajevo._

_Kuala Lumpur in the Malayan Union._

_And the photos, then the morgue, after he was recalled from the Illinois front, waiting on politicians in Washington to make him fight an enemy he didn't want to fight._

_He was ordered back to Washington, no one answering his demands until he was met by the Marine Corps Commandant and the Director of NIS after the plane landed at Andrews Air Force Base._

_Gibbs' wife, Shannon, had been witness to a murder of a Marine in Washington and had seen the sniper. Gibbs knew that of course, and knew the sniper - Pablo Hernandez, a mercenary for hire working on behalf of the Confederates - was on trial. Gibbs knew the trial was underway and that Shannon and their daughter, Kelly, were under NIS house protection._

_What he didn't know was that the CSS helped Hernandez escape, and gave him an incentive to not escape back to Mexico, but to commit an act of terrorism on Industrial soil._

_While NIS and the FBI searched frantically for the escaped shooter, he found a nest, and, near the rural Maryland house where Shannon and Kelly were staying, shot the NIS agent driving their SUV in the head._

_The SUV crashed; Shannon and Kelly survived the wreck._

_They would not survive Hernandez and the four thugs the CSS hired to help him finish their jobs._

_Shannon and Kelly were found dead, in a manner that even revolted the staid FBI and NIS agents who discovered them. Three of the thugs - all from New York, part of a neo-Confederate underground group who eagerly agreed to work with the CSS - were also found dead, each killed by a single shot to the head._

_If Bradley and Kerrey had only signed that damned Peace Agreement a year earlier, Jethro may have been there to protect them._

_Instead, he buried the sight in the recesses of his mind, and practiced what he preached: he moved on._

_But not before exacting his revenge._

_The Cissie who aided Hernandez had crawled back through the Cotton Curtain deep into the Confederacy, but Hernandez himself had escaped to Mexico._

_Gibbs walked into the office of the NIS agent assigned to the Hernandez case - Mike Franks - and demanded answers. Franks simply excused himself to go to the bathroom, and left a folder on his desk._

_Gibbs took it to his empty home, read through it, and began plotting a trip while starting the frame for a boat._

_Weeks later, he found Hernandez near territory controlled by the Reynosa Cartel. Local police and the Mexican federales found Hernandez's truck wrecked, its driver killed by a long-range shot to the head. And Gibbs returned to Washington, agreeing to Franks' offer to join NIS._

_A few years later, after NIS became NCIS, and the agency followed the lead of the IRNA government in refusing to find the CSS agent involved in Shannon and Kelly's murder, Mike Franks resigned and retired to Mexico._

_Gibbs took over the Major Case Response Team, not knowing the people he would work with would become a second family to him. He moved on, and became one of North America's most respected, and feared, investigators._

_The damn Confederates always seemed to find a way to dredge the worst of the past back up, though._

_Crystal. Paula. Paloma Reynosa._

 

_Ari._

 

_Today._

 

"Boss?" Palmer asked.

 

"Duck," Gibbs said, snapping himself back to the present.

 

"As I was saying, Jethro," said Ducky as he bent over McGuiness's body, "this lass met the same unfortunate fate as the two men. All butchered, in the same manner. I would estimate the time of death to be between eight and 10 hours ago."

 

"Around midnight," Gibbs said. "That's when the security officer on duty first heard shots."

 

"Found something!" Bishop yelled. "Bullet casing."

 

Gibbs looked at her placing the shell in an evidence bag, and quickly scanned the crime scene. Something was off.

 

"Bag it, Bishop," he said. "And any other shells you find."

 

"That's the thing, Gibbs. All I see - besides the bodies - is this one casing."

 

He looked around the scene again. "No shells...they cleaned up." The SUV's passenger side was riddled with holes, as expected with the victims' wounds.

 

Ducky stood up and turned to Gibbs. "This reminds me, Jethro--"

 

"Sorry, Duck, not now."

 

"Jethro. You may want to hear this particular story."

 

Gibbs saw his good friend's expression, and saw this wasn't one of Ducky's rambling stories. "Go ahead."

 

"Jethro. When I was in the British SAS, we came across a family in Gloucestershire, brutally murdered in their own home, in this same fashion. No one was spared, not even the children. As I assisted the chief medical examiner of Gloucestershire, he determined each member was murdered with a wound to the head, then brutalized in a hail of bullets post-mortem. The investigators determined the killers were local malcontents, recruited by the Confederate State Security Agency."

 

"Cissies," Gibbs said.

 

"It is the only such incident I can recall that resembles this particular case," Ducky continued.

 

"If the Confederates are here - WERE here," Tony contemplated. "Why kill two petty officers and a gunny?"

 

"Terrorism?" asked Palmer.

 

"Inside job?" Bishop said.

 

Gibbs looked over at the door of the shooting range, a strip of yellow tape across it, guarded by a Owings Mills police officer.

 

"Palmer," Gibbs said.

 

Palmer had long learned how to read his boss's verbal and non-verbal cues, and pulled out his Rocket smartphone. Moments later, after tapping on a few files, Palmer found the information he was looking for.

 

"Mark's Shooting Range, opened nine weeks ago, replacing a fireworks warehouse," Palmer said. "Registration lists the owner as Mark Jones, Towson, Maryland."

 

"DiNozzo," Gibbs said. "With me. Palmer. Help Bishop finish with the sweep of the lot, then you two find where this guy lives. Find out who else works here, where they live."

 

"Yes boss," Palmer said, turning around to check back with Bishop, as Tony and Gibbs headed for the range. After showing their badges and being allowed entrance by the officer, the two agents began looking around.

 

"Officer told me the door was unlocked," Gibbs said. "First on the scene, kept the security officers from looking around."

 

Tony walked over to the register, which was open, and empty.

 

"Inside job," Tony said, as Gibbs looked around nearby. "Guys who worked here killed our vics, then took the money with them and got out of Dodge."

 

"Um-hmm," Gibbs muttered, deep in thought. He made his way into the range, looking for an office. Tony caught up to Gibbs, who was looking at a series of rifles, and both noticed the targets corresponding to each rifle.

 

"Let's get security camera footage, Tony," Gibbs said, as he and DiNozzo looked around the complex. DiNozzo finally found an office, a modest, nondescript room.

 

"Monitor, coffee cup, mouse, keyboard, Orioles calendar, notice something missing?" Tony said as he went through the drawers of the desk. "No personal terminal."

 

"Could've taken the computer with 'em," Gibbs replied, as he picked up a chair with a Dover Demons 1986 NFL2 Champions poster on the seat and moved it to the side, then began looking over the wall. "Or hid it."

 

"Something on the terminal they didn't want someone, like us, to know about," Tony said, noticing Gibbs pushing on a spot on the wall. "What'cha doin', Boss?"

 

"Push," Gibbs said.

 

"Where?" Tony replied, and Gibbs pointed to a spot opposite where Gibbs was standing.

 

Gibbs then walked away from the spot, and around the room, until stopping at the desk. Tony, meanwhile, kept pushing, while stretching his legs.

 

"You know, boss, I forgot to stretch when I woke up," Tony said. "Fed Ziva, put her bowl closer to the light - you wouldn't believe how pissed she looked after I hid her in the bathroom closet from my cat - yeah, the one that ran away - and I closed my eyes, picked a DVD at random--"

 

Gibbs found something in the right bottom drawer, below some old issues of _Sniper's World Magazine_ and _Alliance College Sports Digest_ : a button.

 

"--and I thought I was going to pick _Casablanca_ \- hint hint - but I picked _Cosmic Gunslinger_...Clint Eastwood, baby! Now THATAAAAAAAGGGHHH!"

 

DiNozzo found himself propelled off-balance back towards the desk. Gibbs caught him, smirked, then called for a deputy to come into the room.

 

"If that door closes, push the button," Gibbs ordered, as he and DiNozzo walked past the now-open hidden door, and into the hidden room. Gibbs saw a switch near the door, flipped it, and the first thing they saw was a wall-sized Confederate flag. A cursory look revealed a wide variety of items, from portraits of the first three, and current, Confederate Presidents, to a copy of _Hey Y'all!_ magazine and a Season 4 DVD set of _CSS: Atlanta_ , along with a DVD of a Confederate movie.

 

"Luke Joshua: 2009 Confederate Screen Actors Guild Actor of the Year," Tony mused, then looked around the room again. Gibbs was looking at a video game machine, and the box art for a game called _SEC Pro 2012_.

 

"Game's three years old, going by the copyright," Gibbs said. "Doesn't look like anything newer is in here."

 

"Check this out," Tony said, holding up a CD. "Copyright 2010. _Mississippi_ : guy and girl Confederate country duo, super popular down there, secret Socialists working on the Railroad. Defected two years ago. Abby saw them at the Peace Festival in Minneapolis this summer."

 

"Confederate hiding nest," Gibbs said, "at least where they kept their toys."

 

"Now where do they keep the serious stuff," Tony replied. "We'll have to tear this place apart. And inform the FBI and Homeland, at least."

 

"I'll tell Leon...Tobias and the FBI can have the ‘fun’ tearing this place apart," Gibbs said, smiling. "We have three murders to solve. They're our priority."

 

Both men left the building, Gibbs looking for his other two agents. They saw Bishop running towards them.

 

"I was looking for you, Gibbs," she said. "Just now found this, under a garbage can."

 

She gave Gibbs an evidence bag, with a badge in it. Gibbs took it out, looked it over front and back, and grimaced.

 

"Maybe it's not real, boss," Palmer said.

 

"It's real," Gibbs said, putting it back in the bag. "Confederate State Security Agency."

 

"Their agents aren't that sloppy," Tony said.

 

"Nor are the people they contract with, usually," Gibbs said. "DiNozzo, Palmer, Bishop. Everything from the crime scene goes straight to the Navy Yard--"

 

"Gibbs! Gibbs!" He was interrupted by Shay, holding a smartphone that was beeping.

 

"Got somethin' to say, Shay?" Gibbs said, impatient. She didn't notice it, and gave Gibbs the phone.

 

"I wore gloves, just like Jimmy told me to, if a piece of evidence fell out of the victim's clothing--"

 

"What is it, Shay?" Gibbs said.

 

"It's Woods' phone," Shay replied. "It fell out of his pants pocket as we were putting him on the gurney. I ran back to your truck, got the gloves, like Jimmy taught me--"

 

She received the Gibbs glare, but it didn't faze her.

 

"The phone started beeping after I put the gloves on, while it was on the ground--"

 

Gibbs took the phone, and he and the other agents looked at the screen.

 

"Looks like an app," Bishop said. "'Shooters'. It's showing a map of the park."

 

"And a box...address of Mark's Shooting Range and Shrine to the First and Second Confederate Republics," Tony said.

 

"Asking to rate the range - and put comments on it," Palmer said.

 

"Bag," Gibbs said, and Palmer produced a bag, handing it to Gibbs, who put the phone in it, then handed it back to Palmer. "Get this to McGee."


	3. Chapter 2

**CHAPTER TWO**

**Navy Yard**

Woods' parents stepped onto the elevator, calm but obviously distraught.

"Breaks my heart," Bishop said to Palmer, as Tony made his way to his desk. "Their son was like McGuiness and de la Cruz: other than their military status, the parents knew of no reason anyone would want to harm them."

"No enemies, in or out of the military," Palmer added. "Nothing to suggest they were specifically targeted."

"At least as far as the parents knew," Tony said as he joined the conversation.

"So we dig into their backgrounds," Bishop said.

"Yes, and we follow the evidence," Palmer said. "The badge. Anything in the Expedition. The apps."

"The apps are McTerminal's territory," Tony said. "Abbs is in the garage. We'll dig into backgrounds - and we'll start with the mysterious Mark Brown and the other employees of his shooting range."

**The garage**

Gibbs stepped off the elevator, a cold Caf-Pow! in hand, and saw Abby Sciuto examining Woods' SUV. He put the Caf-Pow! on a table near the SUV and a personal terminal that Abby walked over to after seeing Gibbs.

"The badge Bishop found at the scene is legit," she said, as the badge found at the crime scene appeared on the monitor. "Same alloys generally found in Cissie badges. This one is Alabama steel. The marking on the back-"

"-indicates Special Forces," Gibbs said of the capital X underneath a cross, signifying the classic Rebel Flag under the symbol of a faith billions around the world held dear and the Confederate States all but claimed exclusive rights to.

"We couldn't trace the serial number - well, we could, but then you'd start a shooting war," Abby said.

"We'd need more to go on, like a photo," Gibbs said. "Security cameras?"

"No luck," Abby said. "The ones over the front door were fake. And none of the other cameras in the vicinity were in a position to catch what happened - in fact, there are very few cameras in the park. Money-saving measure, they told me-"

"SUV, Abbs."

"I've gone over this top to bottom, bumper to bumper, inside and out," she said. "On almost all of it, I can't find anything tying it to the killers. Not even shells in the vehicle."

"So you don't have anything for me?" Gibbs said.

"Au contraire, I have two things for you," she said, grabbing him by the wrist and leading him to the passenger side. "This blood stain, is almost completely consistent with what you would expect from the creeps who killed our victims and how they were found."

"ALMOST completely, Abs?"

"Look here," Abby said, pointing to a three-inch spot on the bottom panel of the rear passenger-side door. "The coloring is faded, and a light shade of green."

"Mixture of red and blue," Gibbs said, referring to the blue paint of the SUV, and the victims' blood. He reached down to sniff that specific area.

"I took a sample from that portion of the door, and found traces of bleach mixed in with the blood," she said, as Gibbs sniffed again.

"They started to clean it off but stopped," he said. "Okay, Abbs. What's the other thing you wanna show me?"

"The bullet holes," she said, grabbing him by the wrist and leading him to the garage's personal terminal. "I ran them through every database we have access to, and two types kept coming up: a nine millimeter semiautomatic pistol, known as a Gryazev, used by Soviet Russian, Red Chinese and Confederate interal security forces. And an automatic weapon, we and anyone else in law enforcement knows as a Kalashnikov, or AK-47."

Pistol to the head, machine gun post-mortem, thought Gibbs, as he reached for the Caf-Pow! he put on a nearby table, to hand to Abby.

She handed it back.

"I'm not done," she said. "I have one more thing for you."

"Okay," he said. "Whatcha got?"

"A print, on the door handle, that doesn't match our victims," she said. "I found it right before you arrived."

"Run it, send the results up to DiNozzo and McGee," Gibbs said, handing the Caf-Pow! back to her. "Good job," he said, giving the woman he considered one of his second daughters a peck on the cheek, before heading back to the elevator.

**CyberCrimes**

Palmer munched on an apple while leaning over McGee's shoulder, as both looked at half a dozen smartphones, all running the same app.

Gibbs walked off the elevator, straight to McGee's desk.

"You find somethin', Palmer?" said Gibbs.

"I'll let our resident expert explain," Palmer replied. "You're going to want to hear this."

"Gonna want to hear what, McGee?"

"Boss," McGee said. "You're looking at six of the most popular consumer market smartphones - MacPhone, Galaxy, Ranger, CometPhone, the Punch and the Samba - and each of them have the same app your victims had on their phones: Shooters."

"Explain to me how this ties into my case, McGee."

"The Shooters app is a combination of a social media app for gun enthuiasts and acts as a storefront for legal firearms," McGee said. "You can use it to rate shooting ranges you visit, whether they're officially approved by the app or not. You can also converse with other users, through its chat and instant message feature. And, you can buy legal firearms, provided you're of legal age in your country. Ownership of legal firearms, of course, varies by country, and is reflected in the app, based on the owner's registered address."

"How do you get this 'app', McGee?" asked Gibbs.

"Only through your smartphone," McGee replied. "There's a UniNet site which redirects the visitor to the app store of the phone they own. The app has just gone continent-wide. It first went on the MacSmart and Droid stores here in the IRNA eight months ago. It then was approved for use in Alaska and the LSR, then the RMR, the Southwest Confederation, Mexico, then Nevada. Cuba, Greater California and the United Commonwealth approved it two months ago. Hawaii and Ontario approved it the next week, followed by Quebec, the Maritimes, Maine, New Hampshire, Vermont. New England approved it three weeks ago. The Great Plains was the last Free North American country to approve it, 15 days ago."

"So you can buy firearms through this, ah, 'app', and talk to other users about them," Gibbs asked.

"And more," Palmer said, as McGee put up police reports from Baltimore, Houston, Los Angeles and St. Louis on the 60-inch plasma screen behind him. "Local police in these four cities - and others - report local gangs, street criminals, thugs using the app's social media applications to communicate among themselves. Three days after it was approved in the GPUR, St. Louis police caught a gang communicating in code to move illegal firearms smuggled from Illinois."

"And Omaha police caught a convicted felon talking to someone with CSS ties in a chat room, on the app, from a public library," McGee added.

"So criminals use this thing?" Gibbs.

"The ratio of law-abiding citizens to criminals is 5 to 1 in favor of those obeying the laws where they live, boss," Palmer said. "It's not that different than criminals using any form of social media or popular website or app."

"Were our victims breaking any laws, that either of you could tell?"

"Not as far as I could tell," McGee said. "There were a couple of test messages passed between the three of them. Woods used it the most, and it was only to find an indoor range in the Owings Mills area."

"McGee," Gibbs said. "You have it on your phone?"

"I do on my MacPhone," he said. "The Rocket phone, which I use for work, as do Palmer and Bishop, doesn't have it in their store. Rocket phones are used primarily by business and military clients, and if it doesn't have a work application, it's generally not approved. That includes games, streaming video, sports, and apps like Shooters."

"What does the app have on Mark's Shooting Range?" Gibbs asked, and McGee pointed his MacPhone to the big screen, syncing the two so Gibbs could see what McGee was tapping on the phone.

"All it has is an address and a map?" Gibbs said.

"And 24 reviews, all four or five stars," McGee said.

"Some of those comments seem pretty generic," Palmer added. "'I loved Mark's Shooting Range! Best range in the DC area! I'm definitely coming back!' Similar to comments you'll see for other apps, of any kind, on the MacSmart and Droid stores."

"See if those comments match those from other ranges, Palmer," Gibbs said. "Good work, McGee."

**Autopsy**

"The bullet holes in our victims match the weapons Abigail suggested matched the holes in the SUV," Ducky told Gibbs, as he put de la Cruz's body back in the locker. "I've seen this before, Jethro."

"Gloucestershire."

"Well...yes, when I worked for the British service," Ducky continued. "The Cissies - and that is what they are, for as dangerous as they can be, they are very much in certain ways cowards - murdered a dear friend, his colleague, and their wives."

"That was years ago, Duck."

"The method is not commonly used by the CSS, but certain agents practice it," Ducky said. "It is like a sniper failing to police his brass."

"They're leaving their signature," Gibbs said. "Who's leaving his autograph..."

Gibbs headed towards the door.

"Jethro," Ducky said. "We both know I wasn't referring to Gloucestershire."

Gibbs stopped. The memory of Crystal Hale – the pretty blonde girl from Georgia who got on the Freedom Train as a teenager and swore allegiance to the Industrial Republic in West Virginia – came to mind. Her sweet nature masked her outspokenness and her pro-freedom politics, and it kept her out of the FBI and CIA even after she got White House approval to be a federal agent.

Fornell suggested she try NCIS, and Hale became one of Gibbs's best agents, even at the young age of 29. Tony teased her mercilessly about her Georgia background, her accent, and if she was named after another Confederate refugee who escaped to the Lone Star Republic after four years in the gulag.

As it turned out, Ari shot her dead, in the forehead, and one of his associates butchered her body in the same manner as de la Cruz, McGuiness and Woods.

Gibbs wondered what kind of agent Crystal would have become. If she and DiNozzo would have broken Rule 12, and if they were the ones he would have allowed it to be broken for.

"Your point, Duck?"

Ducky walked over to his friend, with whom he had seen a lifetime's share of blood and gore. He had gotten to Hale's body ahead of Gibbs and Tony.

"What if the same beast who massacred those petty officers and the gunnery sergeant," he said to Gibbs, "did the same to Crystal?"

"Bastard cleaned up," Gibbs mused, as his phone rang.

It was Tony. Gibbs shut his flip phone, and walked out without a word to the elevator.

Ducky walked to the lockers, and pulled out all three slabs.

"I do not know who murdered you, who ended your lives long before your time," he said. "I can tell you, with complete certainty, Agent Gibbs will not rest until he finds your murderers and brings them to justice."


	4. Chapter 3

**CHAPTER THREE**

**Outside Interrogation Room #2**

"Tony," Gibbs said.

"I got a call from Metro PD," Tony began. "A low-level drug dealer I arrested when I worked in Baltimore heard about the case on the news, in the rec room of the city jail. Told the cops he knew something that could help us but couldn't talk there because of Cissies."

"CSS has men in the Metro Jail?"

"According to Metro PD, no, but somebody talked to somebody who talked to Director Vance, and the guy's sitting in the room waiting to talk. To us."

"Talk to him, DiNozzo, keep me in the loop-"

"Agent Gibbs, Agent DiNozzo," Gibbs heard Vance say from behind him. "Metro PD is spooked over this witness, and case, and contacted me directly."

"They think there's a connection?" Gibbs.

"Both of you, in my office," Vance said.

**Director Leon Vance's office**

After Vance pushed a couple of buttons to lock down the office, he pushed a couple of buttons on the remote, and pulled up the mugshot of the thug sitting in the interrogation room.

"Johnny Ferino, from Philadelphia, sitting in the DC Jail after being arrested for selling cocaine near the campus of George Washington University," Vance began. "Agent DiNozzo once arrested him for a similar act near the University of Maryland-Baltimore County campus."

"Guy was a real prince, too," Tony said. "A real dirtbag. Got out of jail, didn't take the hint to turn his life around, got arrested three weeks ago near GWU. Asked to speak to me, said he knew things, and that while he may be a Grade A dirtbag, he's still a patriot. Wouldn't say any more."

"My sources in Metro DC police tell me Ferino knows some known associates of the Confederates, men the Confederate State Security Agency has used in low-level operations here in the IRNA," Vance said. "Some of them were in the DC jail, and though Ferino wouldn't say it over the phone, nor to police, it's thought he may know directly of the men who murdered our two petty officers and Marine."

"'May know', Leon?" Gibbs said.

"Go in there, find out exactly what he knows, and get back to me," Vance said, as his desk phone rang. Gibbs and DiNozzo moved to leave, but Vance signalled for them to stay.

A few minutes later, FBI agent Tobias Fornell entered the room.

"Figured you'd be busy with the shooting range, Tobias," Gibbs said.

"I found something that may tie in with your witness, Jethro," Fornell said. "And I want to talk to him about it."

"Witness?" DiNozzo said.

**Interrogation Room #2**

"Do you know a Mark Jones?" Fornell said, pushing a photo of the Maryland drivers' license of the man registered as the legal owner of Mark's Shooting Range.

"No, I don't, though he looks like the fat twin of someone I do know," Ferino said.

"Explain that, especially the part about 'someone I do know'", Fornell added.

"Ivan."

"Who's Ivan?" DiNozzo said.

"Almost as big, but more muscular, definitely not as fatass as this guy," Ferino said, tapping on the photo.

"Explain how you and 'Ivan' know each other," Gibbs said.

"Met him two months ago, told me he's a collector - I know people who, let's say, find things that people want to collect," Ferino said.

"What kind of things?" Gibbs replied.

"At first, it was old sports magazines, then baseball cards, then Alliance, NFL, NBA, MLB jackets, caps, sweatshirts. PHL, IRHL. Hell, even MLS and ARCA. Wanted lots of Orioles gear. Dover Demons, of all things. Why would you want a Second Division NFL team's gear-"

"Why would you get those items for 'Ivan'?" Fornell said.

"Money."

"Money? Industrial money? Confederate?"

"All Industrial, in cash," Ferino said. "Only met him a few times, usually went through his contact: a guy named Charlie, who works at a 24/7/365 Center in Towson."

"Who's Charlie?" Tony said. "And 24/7/365 doesn't exactly have the best reputation among the law enforcement community."

"No it don't," Ferino continued. "When the cops shut down the steroid dealing in the local gyms from DC to Baltimore, a few people tried to fill the supply gap. 24/7/365 lets a lot of things go. Managers looked the other way while deals went down, out of sight of customers, of course."

"Charlie was the go between?" Gibbs said.

"Ivan asked for product, I'd find it, bring it to Towson, and leave it with Charlie early in the morning, say around 2 or 3, sometimes 4," Ferino said. "Then 24 hours later, I'd come back, pick up my cash, and wait for the next order."

"When was the last time you and Ivan spoke?" Gibbs.

"Three weeks ago. I left a Barons jacket for him, but he was there with Charlie. Ivan asks if I know arms dealers. People who can get me Soviet Russian stuff...you know I've just admitted to stealing NFL gear, right?"

"What we're concerned with is more serious than theft," Fornell said. "Do you know someone who sells arms?"

"No, but I heard of a guy. Goes by James, works out of Baltimore, told him I'd get the contact to him...that day, I got busted at GWU."

"So you don't know of anything related to a Shooters app?" Tony said, and Ferino's eyes lit up.

"Yes - no - I mean, not with Ivan," he said. "But I heard about it on the street before being arrested. And in jail, afterwards. Heard that, if you know how, you can connect with other people thru the app, texts, direct messages, emails, all under the radar."

"What else have you heard?" Fornell said.

"Heard a few guys talking in jail about using it to move arms, once within the last two weeks, up from Atlanta. Guys, in jail, using the app."

"Atlanta," Gibbs said. "Smartphones are banned for use by prisoners."

"Yeah, and you're not supposed to have them, but people do," Ferino said. "And they use them for everything from selling drugs to sex to running gang operations to putting out hits...and using apps like Shooters."

Gibbs pulled out de la Cruz's, McGuiness's, and Woods' photos out of a folder, and pushed them towards Ferino.

"Two Navy Petty Officers and a Marine Gunnery Sergeant, all from the same town, home for Christmas, were murdered last night," Gibbs said, then pulled out their autopsy photos. "Gunshot wound to the head wasn't enough. Murderer, or murderers, had to leave their signature."

Ferino looked intently at the autopsy photos.

"I know who may have done this."

Gibbs stood up, leaning in Ferino's left ear, as DiNozzo moved and leaned over his right side. Fornell leaned over the table, in his face.

"You know who 'may' have committed these murders?" Fornell said. "How."

"I just do," Ferino said.

Gibbs nodded to Tony, who pulled his notepad, and pen, and pushed it in front of Ferino.

"Names," Tony said.

"Get me outta here," Ferino replied. "Get me outta Metro jail, get me into witness protection."

"Why would we do that?" Fornell said.

"BECAUSE of the names. Who's involved."

"Who IS involved," Gibbs said.

"One guy in jail, calls himself Karl, head of the Aryan Knights gang out of Baltimore. Acts as a distributor for firearms, gets them from all over, including the Confederate States," Ferino said. "I've heard on the street he's smuggled arms into the CSA from as far as West Virginia, and vice versa. Said to be person of interest not just of the CIA but of the Black Fist."

"Why would the Black Fist care about him?" Fornell said.

"Says he knows people in the CSA in the Gwinnett Grey House and as far up the chain as the Cissie Director himself," Ferino said. "I heard something. Now that it's known I went to NCIS-"

"Who would know?" Tony said.

"You freakin' kidding me, right?" Ferino turned to Tony. "It's all over the jail by now. Probably on the street. 'Ferino the Snitch'. I'm already a target."

"Tell me how Karl is involved with these murders," Gibbs said.

"I heard...overheard...Karl saying how he used the app to connect with Ivan. Sold him Soviet Russian ammo, to be used with Confederate weapons - Confederate and Soviet arms are the same, so you can use Russian guns and Confed ammo, and vice versa - in an operation."

"What operation?" Tony said. "Where, and when?"

"Karl said his 'guy' was looking to rub out a few soldiers, or military personnel, as a trial run," Ferino said.

"Trial run for what?" Gibbs.

"That I can't tell you. But Karl said his guy found a couple of people for his 'trial run', and that they were talking on the app, set it up on the app," Ferino said.

"And you expect us to believe all this went down in a city jail," Tony said.

"There's lots of stuff that goes 'down' in a city jail, in DC, Baltimore, Philly...as you should know, Agent DiNozzo," Ferino said. "Not every cop is a patriot, not every cop upholds the law."

"You know of cops who may work with Karl, or someone like Ivan?" Gibbs said.

"Immunity," Ferino said. "And witness protection."

"Not sure I can promise that," Fornell said.

"Or I shut up," Ferino said.

"You've already given us the name of the guy who owned the range, and the guy who provided him the arms and ammo to murder two petty officers and a gunny," Tony said. "We could leave it at that."

"How about the names of men who might be persuaded to help commit an act of terrorism on Industrial soil?"

All three agents looked at one another. "Stay here," Gibbs said to DiNozzo, before stepping outside with Fornell. A few minutes later, they returned.

Gibbs jabbed his finger on the notepad.

"Names," he said. "What do you know about these cops. Who are they?"

"There aren't a lot cooperating with the likes of Karl," Ferino said. "You're looking for a guy named Dennis Blake. He and his buddies - no I don't know their names - help Karl and guys like him pass messages outside. And that's all I know."

Gibbs and Fornell moved to leave. Tony sat down. "Why are you telling us this? What's in it for you?"

Ferino looked upwards, towards the mirror, and back at DiNozzo.

"I want a clean conscience. I don't give a crap about some dude roiding up at a gym, selling coke to a frat boy. I DO give a damn about some Cissie scum shooting up a mall or school, or military installation. My aunt died at their hands. My grandmother moved momma and me up here from Georgia through the railroad."

Gibbs sat down. "So you repay her by dealing drugs, stealing jackets, selling them to enemies of your adopted country."

"NO!" Ferino said, in a half-shout. "THIS is how I repay her - telling you about those men, putting my life on the line."

**The bullpen**

Gibbs and Fornell made their way down the stairs from Vance's office and into the bullpen, where DiNozzo, Bishop, Palmer and McGee were working.

"Ferino getting his witness protection, boss?" Tony said.

"If Vance can help it, yeah," Gibbs said. "Whatcha got for me on Jones, and Karl, and Blake, and 'James'?"

Four mugshots, two from drivers' licenses, one from Baltimore, another from Metro PD, appeared on screen.

"First things first: James Coulter, one of Baltimore's least upstanding citizens, rap sheet longer than the Anacostia River of low- to medium-level crimes throughout Maryland, mostly in Baltimore," Tony said. "He couldn't have been involved, because not only was he arrested two months ago after trying to sell stolen weapons to an undercover cop, he was beaten up in the Baltimore city jail by a gang he stiffed. He's still in medical care."

"So Ferino was lying about Coulter, or didn't know Coulter was in jail," Bishop said.

"Information on Jones is sketchy and all signs point to it having been fabricated," McGee said. "He looks like he's in his mid-40s to early 50s, but his birthdate is 12/27/85. And nothing checks out - his birth certificate, schooling, employment history."

"For example, Fuji/Motown Park, head manager of rides, 1996 to 2007," Palmer said. "I thought the Confederates were better than this."

"I've seen it before," Fornell said. "Details aren't important as much as making sure the agent has what he or she needs to operate in the country. Drivers license, credit cards, etc. If Ivan or Mark or whatever his name is was a sleeper agent-"

"They wouldn't be this sloppy," Gibbs interjected. "He's short term...what about Karl."

"Karl, legally Karl Heinz, refers to himself as Karl Auschwitz," Bishop said. "Laundry list of crimes. His latest was assault of a mixed-race couple, Caucasian female, African-Industrial male, after a Bruce Hornsby Orchestra concert. Expressed numerous pro-Nazi and pro-Confederate sentiments to the arresting officers. Known as a small-arms dealer to gangs and individuals by Metro police."

"And rumored to smuggle arms into the CSA from here to Ohio," Fornell said. "Maybe our friend Annie at CIA can shed some light for us."

"DiNozzo," Gibbs continued.

"Dennis Blake, officer, Metro PD, once a rising star who could have become a detective," Tony said. "Disciplined over excessive violence issues. Bumped down to the Metro jail, has been there for six years."

"Anything on the print from the SUV?" Gibbs asked.

"Nothing," McGee said. "We ran it through AFIS. No hits, in any North American police or government database."

"Means the shooter or shooters came straight from the Confederate States," Gibbs said.

"How, Boss?" asked Bishop.

"If they were Industrials working with the CSS they'd have fingerprints on file," Gibbs replied. "Let's go get Blake and Heinz. DiNozzo, with me and Fornell."

"I've already contacted Metro," Bishop said. "And emailed my contacts in Plains Intelligence, and TISA. So the BOLO on Mark Jones slash Ivan has been extended to the Plains and the LSR."

Gibbs nodded, then headed to the elevator. Palmer's phone rang and moments later he rushed to the elevator, stopping it from closing.

"That was Metro," Palmer said. "There's been a couple of shootings."

"Shootings?" Gibbs said, not liking what he would hear next.

"Officer Dennis Blake, and inmate Karl Heinz. Both dead."


	5. Chapter 4

**CHAPTER FOUR**

**Metro PD Jail**

Palmer and Bishop, and a couple of Metro detectives, took pictures of the scene. Ducky and Shay managed to get to the scene ahead of the Washington Chief Medical Examiner, who was stuck in traffic.

"The officer and the inmate shot each other point blank in the chest," Ducky said, "so I would say that was the cause of death, and that it was instantaneous."

"As opposed to a heart attack," Palmer said. "The inmate - the guy with the swastika tattoo on his arm - has to weigh 350."

"The officer isn't so skinny either," Tony added. "Wonder where the DC medical examiner is."

"There was a wreck on the Taft," Shay said. "Good thing we took the back roads, huh, Dr. Mallard?"

"And that you can read a map, my dear," Ducky replied.

"That old Taft Beltway traffic is a nightmare, huh," Tony said, as a Metro Internal Affairs detective nearby frowned. Tony noted the detective's presence, and nodded.

"This is no laughing matter," said Det. Robert Blank, with a stern and robotic demeanor. "Officer Blake was under investigation. Now he is dead. And many questions are left in his wake."

Tony smiled, politely, then made his way quickly to Palmer and Bishop.

"Make a new friend, Tony?" Bishop teased.

"Michael Weatherly had more emotion in  _Mannequin_  as a dummy in the department store," Tony whispered. "Never liked those Internal Affairs guys."

"This one's on our side," Gibbs said, sneaking up on Tony for the 10,000th time. "Wants answers to the same questions we do."

Tony had the jail send over security footage - of which there fortunately was a lot of - to McGee. There was no audio, but as Abby was a proficient lip-reader, the gist of the conversation could be recovered.

**Navy Yard, Forensics**

Gibbs had Abby watch the tape twice, then rewind back to a specific part of the conversation.

"Make sure they're saying what it looks like they're saying," he instructed.

"Okay," Abby said. "The officer is talking about payment, that  _'I turned you onto Ivan, now you owe me'."_

_"'Owe me what?'_

_'Payment. I can get the narc to take the fall'_

_'Part of the deal, remember?'_

_'Screwing me out of my share of the money wasn't part of the deal'_

_'Neither was you taking credit for something you didn't have anything to do with.'_

_'BULL. Without me you don't have Ivan to sell those weapons to.'_

_'What weapons? Are you accusing lil' ol' ME of selling arms to the Cissies?'_

_'You damn well know what I'm talkin' about.'_

_'You want some crackers with your whine?'_

_'The arms you sold him to kill those Navy people with.'_

_'Ohhhh, THAT. And it was two Navy people and a Marine at Mark's range.'_

_'SHHHH...DAMMIT...WATCH what you SAY.'_

_'Hey, I'm headed outta here in a few months, bro. You're stuck here. That's what you get for beating up people.'_

_'Like you have any love for them, Adolf.'_

_'Know what I love, Dennis the Menace? Cash. And freedom. SWEET Freedom. Go where I want, work when I want, work WHERE I want-'_

On the tape, Blake pulls out his pistol and points it at Heinz's chest. Heinz does the same.

_'Better do it right, Officer. And put a bullet in your own head afterwards. Because we both know you're going to prison.'_

_'They can't pin ANYthing on me. You? They expect you. They'll look for the AK-47 under your mat and the pistol under that damned copy of_ Mein Kampf _.'_

_'People know, bro. Not just the one who went to the Navy cops. Others.'_

_'Others.'_

_'Others. In the Brotherhood.'_

_'That damned group of Nazis you hang with-'_

_'NO, the Brotherhood. From Atlanta.'_

_'You sonofabitch'_

_'You're the one who sold them officers out to Atlanta, not me.'_

_'I'M THE ONE-you got some damned nerve. YOU sold Atlanta the arms.'_

_'Then you better shoot me now. Because I'm about to shoot you.'_

_'Screw'_

Then the tape shows both men shooting simultaneously, and falling to the floor.

"You okay, Abbs?" Gibbs said, as she stared at the screen.

"Why would they do that, Gibbs?" she said.

"Do what?"

"Have those petty officers, and that gunnery sergeant killed? What did THEY to do the Confederates? To this Ivan guy, and Karl guy?"

"That's the kind of thing the Cissies do, Abbs," Gibbs said. "Murder officers, enlisted personnel. Civilians. Bomb malls, gas subways, assassinate people in public venues. They try to install fear in us, Abbs. Make us cower to their regime. Make us stop being who we are."

"Gibbs, tell me you'll find this Ivan creep."

"Abbs, WE'LL find this creep. All of us."

**December 23**

**Navy Yard**

"Director Vance put the entire agency, worldwide, on notice," Tony said.

"TISA in the LSR is on alert," Bishop added. "My namesake in Plains Intelligence told me Omaha is on high alert, looking for Ivan. And I got an email from New England Intelligence. They want to be kept in the loop."

"Hope we find him, quick," McGee said. "Just had to tell Sarah I probably won't be going to the parents' for Christmas."

"Had to tell Breana," Palmer said. "Let's just say she wasn't a happy camper."

"Dad's in town, trying to find someone to wine and dine," Tony added. "He's really in town to have Christmas dinner with me - and Ziva the goldfish."

"Well, going back home to Chicago isn't an option," said Bishop. "Shay's going back, so I told her to give my regards to my family when she sees them at the luggage rack at Midway. And I'm sure Voight will be disappointed."

"Your old boss?" Tony said.

"Not my boss; my old partner, for the six months I was a detective," Bishop said. "He's head of CPD's Intelligence Unit, now...Tim? Can't Delilah come by? Tony, what about your dad, and Jimmy, what about Breana?"

"Delilah's still assigned to Dubai," Tim said, dejectedly.

"Dad will - if the Yard's not locked down to civilians due to this case," Tony said.

"Same with Breana," Jimmy added. "Say. Where's Gibbs?"

"Probably stockpiling coffee for when the cafe's closed on Christmas Day," Tony said. "Hey. Here's an email...NCIS will cater on Christmas Day if we have to work."

"That's great," McGee said. "Hope they have enough food for everyone...this place is packed."

The elevator dinged, and Fornell raced off towards the bullpen. At the same time, Tony's phone rang.

"It's Vance, isn't it?" Fornell said.

"Yeah. Wants us all in MTAC, including you, Fornell."

**MTAC**

They saw Gibbs and Vance standing in front of the main screen, which featured Secretary of the Navy Sarah Porter, and the Directors of the FBI, Homeland Security, the NSA and CIA.

"There has been a sharp uptick in chatter among known Confederate operatives and underground UniNet sites about an attack on a U.S. military base or intelligence agency between now and New Year's," Porter began. "Most of the chatter is general, and leads us to believe it may be a diversion."

"A diversion from what, Madam Secretary?" Vance said.

"It's the 'some of the chatter' portion that bothers me," said CIA Chairman Arthur Campbell. "And the rest of us."

"One of our operatives was coordinating investigations of a secret chat room on the Shooters app with an associate in Plains Intelligence," NSA Director Chad Flenderling said. "The discussion touched on the murder of Petty Officers de la Cruz and McGuiness, and Gunnery Sergeant Woods. We were able to identify one of the participants, Ivan, as Ivan Koslov, a known operative long attached to the Confederate State Security Agency. Born in Chechnya, came to Atlanta via the Soviet KGB."

"Did he confirm the murders?" Gibbs said.

"I believe so, but I didn't read that portion of the transcript - which our people are sending to you now - as closely as the bulk of it," Flenderling said. "We're most concerned about the greater portion of the conversation between Ivan Koslov and his associate. NCIS engaged with the associate a few months ago. He goes by several names on the app, including Rodina."

"Mishnev," Gibbs muttered.

"Sergei Mishnev - a close associate of Ari Haswari's and perhaps one of his only friends on the planet," Porter said.

"What was the disturbing portion of the conversation, Director?" Fornell asked.

"An attack on Industrial soil, using heavy arms, possibly targeted at Washington," Flenderling continued. "Anytime between now and New Year's."

"There's something more disturbing," Porter said. "The President met quietly with the Confederate Foreign Minister at the White House, under the pretense of discussing the upcoming Champions League football Wild Card games. In reality, they discussed the situation, and the Foreign Minister denied any knowledge of Confederate involvement."

"Our contacts in Atlanta confirm that Gwinnett Grey House knows nothing about any covert Confederate operation in Washington, as do Military Intelligence Agency contacts in the Confederate Armed Forces," said Campbell. "It's not uncommon for the CSS to engage in such operations on its own - but that would imply some sort of power struggle in the Confederate government."

"And that's something we're most concerned with," said Homeland Director Thomas Morrow, whom Gibbs, Vance and DiNozzo knew very well as the former director of NCIS. "If the CSS takes control of its country, Confederate Crimson Tides and Gators could be heading north from the Mississippi to the Potomac within a day."

"They might be anyway, if an attack occurs on Industrial soil," Porter said. "The majority leaders in both houses of Congress, along with two of the Joint Chiefs, and the Vice President himself are pushing for a declaration of war on the CSA should such an event happen."

"Then we'll be worrying about having enough time to utter a prayer before the missiles fall," Vance said.

"So find this Ivan," Porter said, "and you'll not only solve your crime, Agent Gibbs, you'll prevent a much bigger one from occurring."


	6. Chapter 5

**CHAPTER FIVE**

**Christmas Eve**

McGee was on his sixth cup of coffee, and was walking around Abby's lab to stay awake. Abby, meanwhile, had snoozed off in front of her terminal, clutching her Bert the Farting Hippo doll.

McGee walked back, quietly, to his laptop next to Abby's terminal, going back into the back doors of the Shooters app. He hoped not to wake her unless necessary.

Gibbs took care of that for him.

"Give me something!" he barked, holding a fresh cold 64-ounce cup of Caf-Pow!, and McGee wondered briefly how the old man had that much energy.

Gibbs saw Abby asleep, and his gruff expression turned to annoyance. He took the Caf-Pow! and held it against her cheek.

"I'm up!" she yelped, looking around frantically, to see McGee's surprised look - and Gibbs' look of impatience.

"Sleep when you're dead, Abbs," Gibbs said. "McGee. Anything?"

"Nothing," he said, watching a certain chat room that NSA and Plains Intelligence had identified as one used by Ivan and 'Rodina'. "You think they're on to us?"

"Go deeper, McGee," Gibbs said. "If they're using this thing, they're somewhere else on it-"

The screen changed. Two users - Ivan and Rodina - appeared in the chat room.

_Ivan: it is time, my friend_

_Rodina: Bravo 51 agrees_

_Ivan: they are all gathered_

"Sending alerts to everyone now, Boss," McGee said.

_Rodina: do you have your supplies_

_Ivan: we do indeed_

"We need their meeting place, McGee," Gibbs said urgently.

_Rodina: Good. When is kickoff_

_Ivan: Never knew you to be a football fan_

_Rodina: I do not follow any sport. But the kickoff, when is it_

_Ivan: Team's on the field, lined up_

"They're out there! McGee, constant updates!" Gibbs ran out of the lab towards the elevator.

"'Constant updates' - you don't have time to text back and forth," Abby said to McGee.

"I'm on the phone, Abbs!" they heard from McGee's Rocket phone. "Real time, McGee!"

Gibbs, phone to his ear, impatiently waited for the elevator to reach the bullpen.

_Rodina: Where will the ball be kicked off, as it were?_

Gibbs ran out of the elevator as soon as the door opened, barely noticing Vance in the bullpen. "DINOZZO! PALMER! BISHOP! You armed?"

"Armed and ready," DiNozzo said.

"Rapid Response Teams 1 and 2 are in the field and ready," Vance said.

_Ivan: kickoff is at the Stickfoot Railroad Terminal, near the poplar point_

"...near the poplar point," Gibbs barked. "Find that place, McGee!"

"I'm on instant message with Plains Intelligence," Abby said. "She thinks they may be using real places at this point."

"At this point? Meaning what?" Gibbs barked - again.

"If they're about to attack, they won't bother using code words," said Fornell, running off the elevator into the bullpen. "FBI agents in Philadelphia just evacuated an entire arena for a 76ers/Knicks game over a bomb threat, in what amounted to be a hoax. Christmas Eve service in Detroit, same thing-"

"Boss!" McGee yelled. "They're talking-"

_Rodina: the irony of you using an Underground Railroad station for a staging ground is striking_

_Ivan: we dropping code?_

_Rodina: I think we are - unless they can still prevent you from carrying out the operation_

"Gibbs!" Abby said. "PID says when Confederate agents drop the use of code and they think they are safe to execute their operation, then they're about to attack. Any second."

_Ivan: oh HELL no. This baby's going down. Tell Bravo 51 we'll get 'em back for Parsa and Dearing_

_Rodina: and so close to the Eagle's Nest._

"Bravo 51?" Tony said. "Parsa...Dearing...Boss?"

"Bravo 51...is Ari," Gibbs said as everything came together in his mind. "Stickfoot...Poplar Point...railroad...Eagle's Nest...Palmer! Contact IRNA Park Police Anacostia Operations Facility, tell them a terrorist attack is underway at the old Underground Station. DiNozzo, get me Agent Jackson, now, put him on speaker!"

"On it, boss!" Tony said.

_Ivan: makes it all the better, don't it? Ball's on the tee_

_Rodina: are you watching from a safe spot_

_Ivan: oh HELL no. I'm about to kick the sonofabitch all the way to the Navy Yard_

"BOSS...they're going to launch at NCIS!" McGee yelled.

Vance commandeered Bishop's phone and urgently dialed an emergency extension. "All personnel. An attack on the NCIS building is imminent. Repeat, an attack is imminent. Get to safe stations immediately." Everyone else on the floor began moving to a safe area - except for Fornell, Vance and Team Gibbs.

"Abby! McGee! Drop to the ground, get to the safe area on your floor ASAP!" Gibbs barked, then pulled out his handgun. He then glanced at the automatics, and rocket launcher, that an RRT agent had dropped off with DiNozzo while Gibbs was in forensics.

"Gibbs, what are you thinking..." Vance said. Then he got to see for himself.

Gibbs took his handgun and shot out two of the windows overlooking D.C., the Anacostia River, and Anacostia Park, as the others on the floor ducked for cover.

"This is Agent Jackson," barked the intercom on Tony's phone. "Is this Gibbs?"

"Agent Jackson," Gibbs yelled, as he took the MANPAD rocket launcher and aimed it towards the park. "This is Agent Gibbs. Get your teams to Anacostia Park, directly across from the Navy Yard. The attack is coming from the former Underground Railroad terminal used THIS century. I'm going to give our people a little time to get to shelter, you'll have to finish them off."

"Roger that, Agent Gibbs," Jackson said on the intercom. "Team 1 is right there-"

Gibbs launched a single rocket from his MANPAD; seconds later it exploded in the park. Then he reloaded.

_Ivan: they're ON TO US...go go GO GO GO GO_

_Rodina: Ivan?_

McGee and Abby, having sprinted to the ballistics and finding a hiding spot, continued to monitor the chatroom.

"Boss, he's cursing up a storm and the chat room is picking it up, which suggests he's on the ground-"

"I know that, McGee!" Gibbs said as he reloaded, and Vance and DiNozzo moved in behind him. "What in hell is he doing?"

"Last thing he said was 'go go go go go'."

A rocket then launched from the park, headed for the buildings - and the windows.

"INCOMING!" Vance screamed. "Get to the sides NOW! Gibbs...GIBBS!"

Gibbs calmly launched another rocket from his MANPAD, then took it and moved backwards as quickly as he could, while watching his rocket and the park rockets' paths.

Both rockets collided in mid-air, just beyond the parking lot; it lit up the sky momentarily, the noise causing those still on the floor to cover their ears, and the front part of the building to shake. As the smoke cleared outside, Gibbs began reloading his MANPAD, just in time to see Rapid Response Teams 1 and 2 converge on the park.

He, Vance, DiNozzo, Fornell, Palmer and Bishop huddled around DiNozzo's still-working phone, hearing the battle from the vantage point of Agent Jackson.

"Each Rapid Response Team has at least 10 people, all fully-armed and fully-trained, and two state of the art, armed helicopters," Vance said. "We have both our teams down there. Plus SEAL Teams Four, Five and Six."

"Three SEAL teams, Leon?" Gibbs asked.

"SecNav's orders," Vance replied. "She, and others, thought an attack on Washington was most likely. She wanted to be prepared."

Six minutes later, Jackson got back on air.

"Director Vance. Agent Gibbs," he said. "The threat has been neutralized."

Gibbs, and everyone else, let out a sigh of relief.

Twenty minutes later, his team was leading the investigation.

"Two of you together, at all times," Gibbs ordered. "Until we confirm all the Confederates are captured, or dead."

Palmer and Bishop searched a portion of the now-damaged west half of the park, and came across an outdoor toilet.

"Of all the things," Palmer said after they saw it, still standing despite the burnt ground around it. As Palmer turned around - hearing a falling tree limb in the distance - Bishop looked inside.


	7. Chapter 6

**CHAPTER SIX**

**Anacostia Park across the river from the Navy Yard**

Ivan was behind the door, and got the drop on her. He put a knife to her throat, then saw Palmer.

"Agent!" he growled. "You do anything other than contact your 'boss' and I will kill her instantly, then you, then your boss and your team...NOW!"

Palmer played it safe. Minutes later, Gibbs, DiNozzo, and dozens of others - including Jackson and his RRT 1 and 2 units - were there.

"There's only one way out of this, Ivan," Gibbs said. "Surrender."

"You're joking," Ivan said. "I'm going to die, and I'm taking her with me."

"No, you're not taking her with you, and you're not going anywhere," Gibbs replied.

"Un unh," Ivan growled, grimacing from the shrapnel imbedded in his lower back, and buttocks. "I'm going out fighting, and killing you lot. You should've listened to Ginstock. Remember him. The guy YOU elected. The 1980s. Johnny Reb wanted to talk peace with you. Ginstock wanted to talk peace with him. You people listened to the pansy-ass Plainsians in Omaha and their friends in Austin and Sacramento and Boston."

"PUT your weapon down, Confederate!" Vance yelled. "Surrender. You'll walk out of this alive."

Ivan laughed. "Bull...and I don't take order from damnYankees, specially the likes of YOU. I GIVE them to damnYankees."

"Really?" Gibbs said. "What're you ordering us to do? Hear you ramble on?"

"You LISTEN," Ivan said, as Bishop squirmed under his grip, and with the blade lightly pressing against her carotid. "Just yoke you should've listened to Ginny. The guy you sent to The Hague, the guy who we got out and into protective custody. If you had listened, the IRNA, the Confederates, the Soviets and Red Chinese would've been an unbeatable combination. Lewis and his Black Fist, Dees and the Socialists, the Galtists and their bullcrap? D-O-N-E. And we would've rolled over the rest of the continent and REALLY made it free-"

"All that would've done is unleash a hornet's nest, the mother of all rebellions," Vance said.

"Did I tell you to open your mouth?" Ivan said, condesceningly, even as sweat poured from his forehead. He was losing blood, and beginning to weaken - but not enough to keep from slicing Bishop's throat. "Rebellion? We would've restored faith and values in your country like our own. You're sick, your diversity and tolerance. It made you step back when you could've finished off the Plainsians. Your perversions made you weak, just like this bitch."

She didn't move, due to the knife at her throat and the shiv poking in her back.

"You wanna make an announcement to NCIS?" Gibbs said. "We know you were talking to Mishnev. We know you're allied with Ari."

Ivan smiled, for the first time in a few days. "Yeah, what about it?"

"Your friends funneling you cash and arms?"

"Support," Ivan said. "They told me all about you, Gibbs - or is it Jethro? Or Leroy? Your father called you Leroy, didn't he? Wonder if he's burning in hell right now."

Gibbs grimaced.

"Got a reaction from you."

"Keep on, and I'll give you a reaction."

"Sure you will," Ivan smiled. "Just like when you and your puppy dog came up on Dr. Mallard, after you found Crystal."

Ivan saw a Seal aim a weapon.

"I SAID I WILL SLICE HER THROAT IF ANY OF YOU DO A THING!" he screamed, and winced. Bishop waited for her chance to get the drop on the bastard. She realized she may get stabbed first.

"Crystal Hale," Ivan said. "That was my work."

Gibbs lowered his gun just a bit. Tony caught his eye, and started to say something. Gibbs shook his head.

"Wanna say something, 'DiNutso'? Or you gotta ask your boss's permission?"

"Are you admitting to the murder of an NCIS agent in 2003?" Gibbs said, as shocked as he's ever been. He never expected Ivan to be this bold.

"Yep," Ivan said. "And the murders of your petty officers and gunny at the range the other night. Just like you bastards gunned down my boys, tonight."

"You killed them?" Gibbs said. "Why? What did they do to you?"

"What did Crystal do, what did Paula do, what did E.J. and Levin and Cade do...what did a hundred other people do...they didn't do nothin'! Wrong freakin' place, wrong freakin' time!"

Vance stepped forward.

"Be careful...boy," Ivan said. "You know the CSS trained me. I can move faster to kill your agent than you can stop me. You may get me, I'll get her."

"I'm the head of a federal agency that your associates have chosen to take a peculiar interest in," Vance said.

"Yeah, so?"

"I can speak to certain people, who will have an interest in what you have to say," Vance continued. "You keep this up, you're leaving here on a gurney."

"Put me next to her. She smells nice."

"She's not leaving here on a gurney at all," Vance continued. "You play nice with me, you give us information. You get life in prison."

"Is that the deal he gave Harper Dearing, Leroy?" Ivan taunted. "Was that before or after you stabbed him?"

"Self-defense," Gibbs said. "He went after me. He also exploded a bomb, paid for with Confederate dollars, that killed dozens."

"And forced poor Ziva to flee to Tel Aviv after Parsons went on his crusade," Ivan continued. "Did you ever think that-"

"Are you Mark Jones?" Gibbs said.

"Nope," Ivan said. "Shot the fat son of a bitch, left him somewhere between here and Owings Mills. Good luck finding him. I ain't tellin' you nothing."

"If you don't tell us 'nothing' then we can't deal," Vance said.

"You really want to talk, MLK Three?"

"I'll take the 'King III' comparison as a compliment," Vance continued. "You let Agent Bishop go - UNHARMED - then we'll talk."

"Really," Ivan said, twisting the knife just a hair, beginning to draw blood. He didn't notice Gibbs talking into his phone. "You want to talk? Send a helicopter from the Soviet Embassy NOW, taking us - her and ME - to the Embassy, then I let her go when I'm on friendly-"

The back of Ivan's head exploded, as a sniper's bullet came out of nowhere, speeding from the rifle of its shooter toward's Ivan's head.

Bishop felt the knife slice her cartoid ever so slightly, and she put pressure on it to keep from bleeding out.

"DUCKY!" Gibbs yelled, as the Medical Examiner's truck sped towards the scene. After Ducky got out to tend to Bishop, and Gibbs confirmed Ivan was dead, he looked back towards the Navy Yard.

He then dialed a number on his phone, for the shooter perched atop the NCIS building in the Navy Yard.

"Guess I taught ya somethin' after all...former Agent Todd," he said. "Nice work."

Kate got up from her perch, and smiled.


	8. Chapter 7

**CHAPTER SEVEN**

**Christmas Day**

**Gibbs' house**

The old man was downstairs, working on his boat, sanding away until the panel took on that velvet finish he preferred.

One day, he swore, he'd tell everyone how these boats got out of his basement. Each time he swore that to himself, he figured everyone would be disappointed, so he put it aside.

He turned around to get a piece of sandpaper, and a photo caught his eye.

He, Shannon, and Kelly, before his deployment to the Illinois Front more than 20 years ago.

"We got him," he said softly. "We got the bastard."

He heard the footsteps coming down the door, and knew who it was before looking up.

"Figured you'd be somewhere else, Duck," Gibbs said.

"And I had thought I was the only one who spoke to the deceased," Ducky said. "In a quite unexpected way, you seem to have received closure for that portion of your life."

"It won't bring them back, Duck," Gibbs said. "Can't look back."

"No. You move 'on', as you yourself have done - and taught - for so many years," Ducky said. "But that isn't the reason I came down here."

"What is it, Duck?" Gibbs asked. "Wanna help me with the boat?"

Ducky chuckled. "That boat, Jethro, can wait another day. This is no way to spend Christmas, all bottled up."

"Don't have anyone to spend it with. Everyone's with family," Gibbs said. "Sent them all home."

"Indeed, you did," Ducky said. "Come upstairs, my friend, have a drink with me...I will NOT accept no for an answer."

Now it was Gibbs' turn to chuckle. "I can't argue with that," he said, following Ducky up the stairs and through the laundry room.

"Yes, Jethro, you and I--"

Gibbs stepped into the kitchen, and saw literally everyone waiting for him.

"--and  _all_  of our closest friends."

Just about all of them were there.

* Tony, and DiNozzo Sr.

* McGee and his sister Sarah.

* Palmer and a very pregnant Breana.

* Abby.

* Shay, who delayed her trip home for this impromptu occasion.

* Vance and his kids.

* Kate, her husband Frankie Rizzoli, and their two kids.

* Fornell, Diane and their daughter Emily.

And via video connections set up on MacPads and laptops,

* Delilah Fielding, from the NSA's field office in Dubai;

* Dewayne Pride and Christopher LaSalle from the TISA office in New Orleans, along with NCIS liaison Meredith Brody;

* California Naval Intelligence agents Steve McGarrett, Chin Ho Kelly, Kono Kalakaua and NCIS liaison Danny Williams, along with Californian Office of Special Projects operatives G Callen, Sam Hanna, Kensi Blye and Marty Deeks, operations manager Hetty Lange and California Intelligence Service Assistant Director Owen Granger from Greater California Naval Investigations in San Diego;

* Frankie's sister, Jane, and her wife (and Kate's twin sister) Maura in Boston;

* Mac Taylor, from the CSI lab in New York;

* and Ellie Bishop's namesake - a very blonde, young woman from PID headquarters in Omaha.

"This is Eleanor - Ellie - Bishop," said the NCIS Bishop, holding up a MacPad, as PID Bishop waved.

"Seems like PID has a cold case involving a Plainsian Marine they'd like our help on," Vance said. "But it can wait until the holidays."

"Speaking of," Tony said. "Food's getting cold outside; we need to bring it in-"

"Then what're ya waitin' for, DiNozzo?" Gibbs said. "We'll put it downstairs by the boat if we have to...go!"

Palmer, McGee, Tony, Bishop, Frankie and Shay ran out to bring in the food, and for at least one more day, Gibbs' team was the extended family he hoped it would become.

Especially when one missing member showed up.

"Boss," Tony said. "You're not gonna believe this-"

"Bring her in, DiNozzo," Gibbs said.

And with that, Ziva David walked in.

Now the family was complete.

**Once again, many thanks to Chipperback at alternatehistory.com for his graciously allowing me the run of his Willa Catherverse for this alt-NCIS story!**


End file.
